


Letting Go

by winterisakiller (sparkinside)



Series: Last Minutes &  Lost Evenings [8]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/winterisakiller
Summary: It's simple, but somehow, letting go's the hardest part.





	Letting Go

“You can talk to me about it, you know.”

Rosemary’s eyes flashed up to Bryan’s, taking in the warmth and sincerity in his expression. She knew she could talk to him; that he would listen and understand, and that made everything so much worse. How could she begin to explain the whirling dervish that was her current state of mind? How could she tell the man who cared for her that she couldn’t make heads nor tales of the man who she believed, up until a week ago, cared nothing for her? How within a half an hour he’d managed to turn her world on its head? How despite everything, and wishing desperately that she didn’t, she still loved him?

Frustrated tears flooded her eyes, “I don’t know how…” _to explain. How to make you understand that I don’t know what to feel. What to think_. She hated this, hated the uncertainty.

Bryan smiled softly and placed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Just take however long you need. I’m here whenever you are ready.”

She wasn’t ready. Wasn’t sure she ever would be. She hated herself for that. Bryan didn’t deserve to have to deal with her emotional baggage. Her inability to just let the past go. She forced herself to sit up and offered him a watery smile. “I’m sorry.”

Bryan shook his head. “Don’t be. I know it must be difficult. I don’t know what happened between you two but I know you’re still reeling from it. And I meant it. Take however long you need to process. I’m not going to judge you.”

She wanted to laugh and cry. He was so patient. So understanding. And she couldn’t grasp why that seemed to grate. She did neither, simply nodding and trying to pull her attention somewhere, anywhere, else.

And it worked. At least for a little while. She went about her routine, pasting a smile on, trying to avoid both Bryan with his infuriating understanding and Jules with her quiet condemnation. It was exhausting. She knew that both meant well, in their own way, but Rosemary could barely keep her own grasp of the matter let alone navigate through theirs. She was angry and sad and could not seem to find a balance between the two. She hated that she still cared. Hated that he could still have such a pull on her. She’d moved on, they were over, why couldn’t she just let it go?

Bryan’s simple solution barely a week later had caught her completely off guard. They’d been sitting to breakfast on one of the rare mornings they both had off. She had her mug of tea halfway to her lips when he’d spoken.

“You should talk to him.”

She gaped at him openly. She had to have misheard him. _Surely he couldn’t mean..._ “What?”

“Talk to Tom,” he elaborated with a casual directness that only served to confuse her more.

“What? Why? What good is that going to do? He and I are done…” she flustered, trying to get her thoughts out coherently and failing.

Bryan shook his head. “No, you’re not. Not really. He still makes you angry. You’re never finished with anyone if they can still make you angry.”

Rosemary stared at him in amused disbelief. “Did you really just quote Doctor Who at me?”

A grin broke out across his face at her understanding. “So what if I did? It’s the truth. He’s still making you angry. There is still enough there that you need to deal with.” He sobered, eyes pleading with her. “Talk to him. Get it out, for your own sake.”

Rosemary nodded but did not answer. Torn between fury at his suggestion of further interaction and dismay at knowing he was probably right, she chose the practical route of silence. Screaming at Bryan would solve nothing. She wasn’t angry with him. Not really. He cared, he wanted to fix this. She knew that. But the thought of reaching out to Tom with her head still in shambles was terrifying.

Bryan seemed to drop the subject after that and Rosemary was in no hurry to bring it up again. But still it nagged at the back of her mind. He’d had a point, leaving things as they were between her and Tom wasn’t working. He was still very much present in her life, despite her protests to the contrary. It wasn’t healthy, she knew that. She found herself, more and more often, thinking about what had happened between them; what he’d said to her and how much pain he’d caused. She wasn’t over it and pretending to be so no longer seemed to work. But understanding that and acting on it were two completely different things.

In theory it would be such a simple task; she‘d speak with Tom, tell him what she needed to tell him, and walk away. Finally let it and him go. And when she put her mind to it, it was easy to come up with the words to explain just how angry she still was. How much hurt he caused but not only rejecting her but lying to her about it. But that was in theory. She feared the actual task would be well beyond her.

She still had his number, or well what had been his number once upon a time she wasn’t even sure if it was still active, and she’d spent many mornings in her office with her phone in hand the dial screen cued up with his number set only to quickly close the damned thing and shove it back into her purse. She was a coward but honestly could self-preservation be considered cowardly? _Probably_. So she continued to hesitate, tried to put it solidly out of mind.

“Whatever the fuck it is you’re agonizing over, just get it over with already!” Jules’ stern voice called from the doorway of her office. Rosemary’s gaze darted upwards, dropping her phone soundly on her desk. “We’ve got a fuck ton of inventory to do, Rose. You need your head in the game. And right now, it’s really fucking not. So just call whoever it is you’re putting off calling and get it together.” And with that she sauntered back into the store front.

Rosemary stifled a nervous laugh and grabbed her phone, staring once again at the screen. _Just do it and get it over with. Honestly it probably isn’t still connected. Just call and get the notion out of your head!_

With shaking hands she hit the call button. It rang once. Twice.

“Rosie?”

 

She stood in front of the black metal gate. Why she agreed to this; agreed to here, she still didn’t know. _This is a mistake_ , she told herself for the hundredth time. She spared a glance, once again, around the street. It was a nice neighborhood, far nicer than she was used to. _Of course he’d live here_.

The house was lovely, or at least it seemed that way from the outside. It was gated, that wasn’t a complete surprise given who he was, but didn’t seem pretentious. Well maintained. She didn’t know what to expect about inside and if she didn’t work up her nerve, she never would.

Why was ringing the bell such a terrifying prospect? _Not the bell_ , she reasoned, _it’s what’s waiting on the other side of it_. And she felt foolish, letting her nerves get the better of her. How long would she continue to let them, let him, control her? She needed to do this, no matter how foolish the endeavor seemed. Bryan had been right. She needed to finally, _finally_ , let this go. With determination she hit the call bell and waited.

She heard his voice, garbled and distorted by the speaker, quickly followed by the clank of the gate opening. She walked through and up towards the door, fighting the urge to turn tail and run. She could tell Bryan she tried but that it didn’t work. Maybe he would let it go then. But before she could make up her mind the front door opened and in it stood Tom, the expression on his face guarded but somehow hopeful.

He offered her a tentative smile but said nothing as he stood to the side and motioned for her to enter. She hesitated for a moment before steeling herself and walking into the house.

The hallway was sparsely furnished and neat. It suited Tom. The living room was much the same though the walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves filled with hundreds of books. She fought the urge to run to them and trace each cover gently and seek what treasures she instinctively knew he had hidden among them.

She could feel his eyes on her but fought the urge to return his gaze. “You can look through them if you want.” Tom’s voice was steady but quiet. For a very brief moment she sincerely considered taking him up on the offer. It wold be so easy to lose herself in his books. _But that’s not why I’m here_ , she scolded herself.

“No,” she answered, her voice harsher than she’d intended and away from the bookshelves. She grimaced then offered a small smile, “But thank you.”

An awkward silence fell between them. She hated it. Hated how the one person she’d felt completely comfortable with was now the one person she could barely stand to be near. She flicked her eyes towards Tom, watching how he shifted his weight from foot to foot, uneasy in his own space. Maybe meeting here had been a mistake. But they would need privacy for this and she could not bare to have him in her space. Not and be able to get through this.

He cleared his throat, finally seeming to come to a decision. “Would you like some tea?”

Wordlessly, she nodded and watched him head in the direction of what she assumed to be the kitchen. She did not follow but walked farther into the living room and settled on one of the arm chairs near the far wall.

She had always wondered what his home had been like, had imagined various designs and locations, and had always hoped to maybe one day see for herself. _Be careful what you wish for…_

Rustling sounds carried from the hall and soon he was walking back into the living room two mugs of tea in hand. She took hers and carefully blew into it before taking a tentative sip. It was just as she’d liked it. She cocked an eyebrow in his direction, surprised. He’d remembered and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He said nothing but inclined his head in understanding.

They sat quietly, each holding but not drinking their mugs of tea, as if they were talismans against their discomfort. The silence between them was silted and painfully awkward. She watched as he placed his mug in the side table and preceded to fiddle with the hem of his sweater absently then remove and clean his glasses. She knew she should say something; that she was the reason they were here in the first place, but she didn’t know what. Couldn’t seem to order the ideas that flooded her mind into any semblance of coherency.

Which was utterly ridiculous, she’d practiced this again and again in her mind. What she would say, how she would react. But that seemed to go to pot. Here she sat with him directly in front of her and her mind was jumbled. This should not be this hard. After all, the worst had already happened. She’d lived through it. This should be nothing.

Several minutes passed and still neither spoke. Rosemary wondered, humorlessly, who would be the first to break. Her eyes snapped up as Tom cleared his throat. It was an automatic gesture and she cursed herself for it. She could see the uncertainty and underlying pain in his eyes.

A small bolt of anger careened through her. How dare he look like the wounded party? Like h was the only one who hurt? She watched as he swallowed audibly and without preamble broke the silence between them “He seems like a good man.”

She blinked rapidly in confusion and whispered quietly, “Bryan?”

Tom nodded, a forced smile on his face. “He’s good to you?”

Rosemary choked back the urge to snarl that it was none of his business. _How dare he even..._ “Yes, he is. He’s open and honest. I never have to guess where I stand with him.” It was a low blow and she knew it. But it did little to stop the smug sense of satisfaction rushed through her as Tom flinch at her words. Guilt soon followed. Hurting him didn’t solve anything. It didn’t make anything better.

“And you’re happy?”

She swallowed then nodded. “As I can be.”

Another awkward silence passed between them. Her fingers drummed against the mug in her hand. The tea inside had long since gone cold but she made no move to put it down or replace it. It was her shield as ridiculous as that notion was. Like a porcelain mug would save her from interacting with the man before her. Would keep her from making what she knew was a colossal mistake.

She shouldn’t have come here. What good did hashing any of this mess out actually do? Round and round they seemed to go. She was angry, he apologetic. It didn’t solve anything. But she couldn’t seem to make herself go. God it was such a mess.

“Luke was pissed at me, you know. Bloody furious,” Tom blurted, looking more than a little abashed at his own honesty. “He still is to be honest.”

Rosemary stared at Tom in confusion. “What…”

“He was pissed at me because he knew I fucked up. I was happy; tired and working like mad, but happy. He could see that. He could see that being with you made me happy,” he sighed, “He wasn’t thrilled at first, when we first started…He thought I was being a fool, starting something with someone I didn’t know. That he wasn’t sure we could trust.” He raised his eyes to catch her gaze. “But by the end I think he knew you were something special. Someone important. Someone trustworthy. And even now…You could have lambasted me in the press. Dragged my name through the mud...”

“And said what?” She snapped, eyes shining with frustration. Why couldn’t he understand? She spat the next words at him, not caring that he flinched at them. “That ‘I was Tom Hiddleston’s fuck buddy until I was stupid enough to catch feelings and even stupider to tell him I did’? Jesus, Tom! Like I wanted to rain that kind of hell down onto me and mine?”

His eyes widened, hurt swirling in their blue depths. He seemed to struggle to find his words. Finally, he choked out, “Is…Is that what you think you were…?”

Something in her snapped. She glared and let loose the words that had been volleying around her mind since his painful confession nearly a month prior. “What else was I supposed to think? We never did ANYTHING outside of my flat. You came to me and we talked and then we fucked. You never seemed to want anything else from me.”

She raised her hand, silencing the protest on his lips. “And I know I never asked for a label for what we were doing. That’s on me. I didn’t want to shout what we were doing to the rooftops but I wanted to feel like I mattered. Like I was more than a friendly ear and a warm body. All I wanted was to hear you say I mattered.”

“You matter. Rosie…God, you matter so much that it terrified me. It still does! My life is wonderful and exciting but it comes with a really shitty price. It’s one that I am willing to pay for myself but I couldn’t ask you to do the same.” He ran his hands through his hair, eyes locking on Rosemary’s, pleading with her to understand. “You have a wonderful, quiet life, how could I drop my chaos into it? I fuck things up. I run in headfirst and don’t stop to think about the consequences or who I drag in with me.”

He reached for her hand but stopped just short of touching his fingers to hers as she shrunk back from him. Tension rolled off of him in waves, but he soldiered on, eyes locked on hers. “And I couldn’t do that to you,” Another pause. “Or at least that’s what I told myself. You mattered far too much to be sacrificed at the altar like that. So I tried to set you free. Tried to minimize the damage. And I only made it worse. I’m sorry. I’m so unbelievably sorry. And I know that doesn’t fix it and it certainly doesn’t excuse it. But I don’t know what else I can do.”

The uncomfortable silence fell once again. Rosemary dropped her eyes from his and shifted in her seat, finally placing the long cold mug of tea on the table. She couldn’t bring herself to continue to look at him. Half feared that doing so would make her resolve crumble. And that was something she refused to allow. Not now.

“I wanted to hate you,” Rosemary whispered, breaking the silence. She still refused to meet his gaze, knowing that if she did so, she would never get the words out. And she needed to get them out. Needed him to hear them. As she spoke her voice grew steadier, her words louder and more sure. “God, everything would be so much simpler if I could just hate you. I tried and I can’t. And that makes it so much worse. You lied to me, Tom. You broke my heart. You decided that I couldn’t handle being with you; being in a relationship with you. Sex was fine but god forbid real feelings get involved! Do you have any idea how that made me feel?” She took a deep breath, “God, I want to hate you…But I can’t,” she paused again to steady herself. “I love you. I love you so much it scares me. I love you, Tom, and I want so badly to forgive you but I can’t. Not now. Because if I do I’ll let you back in and I can’t do that. I can’t trust you and I can’t trust myself with you.”

“That…That’s fair enough,” Tom whispered. He clasped his hands tightly together in his lap and paused to steady himself. “I never wanted to hurt you. But I did. And I will have to live with that. I just want you to know I didn’t mean it and I would do anything, _anything_ to take it back.”

She shook her head and forced herself to meet his eyes. “You can’t,” she choked out.

His nodded stiffly, hands resting firmly on his knees. His eyes were reddened and he quickly rubbed at them. “I know,” He took a steadying breath, “but that doesn’t stop me wishing it weren’t the case.” His eyes locked on hers in earnest. “What can I do? Tell me what you need me to do, Rosie. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

She blinked at him and fought against her own tears. “Just leave me be.” She took a shallow breath, her hands clasped desperately in her lap. “After I leave just please let me go. I need time to get over this. To get over you and what happened. I can’t do that if I keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for you to pop up like you seem so wont to do.” She felt the tears spill over and hastily wiped them away. “And I know that sounds selfish, especially since this time I’m the one who sought you out. I just…I needed to finish this properly. I can’t keep being angry with you. It’s not fair to me and it’s certainly not fair to Bryan. I need to let this…Let us go. So please, please just leave me be.”

Tom nodded, no longer bothering to fight the tears. “Okay,” he spoke, his voice shaking. “Okay.” He paused and took a deep breath. “If that is what you want I will.”

“It is.”

He nodded once again before standing, grabbing the discarded tea mugs, and disappearing into the kitchen. Rosemary fought to compose herself. This was what she’d wanted; what she needed. But it hurt. God, did it hurt.

Not trusting her emotions to hold for much longer, she called garbled farewell and quickly left. She hurried down the street, trying in vain not to think; not to dwell on her warring emotions. The cool air stung her cheeks as she walked past the nearest tube station. She couldn’t face the idea of being stuck in a crowded carriage with her emotions running haywire.

She didn’t remember much of the walk, barely even registered that she’d taken it when she found herself standing at Bryan’s door. She had no conscious thought of coming here. No recollection of the decision. But there she stood. She knocked and quickly wiped at her face. The door opened, she took in Bryan’s concerned face, and allowed herself to fall apart in his arms.


End file.
